Blindness
by baileybijoux
Summary: "This rebellion is going to be the end of us, you know that?" Hayffie oneshot, set during the trials in CF.


A/N: Well, I'm back. Sorry for the huge hiatus. Finally got around to re-reading Catching Fire and this little thing popped into my head. I set it in the same universe as We Were Nothing, so technically they're in a kind of sort of secret relationship. You don't have to read it to understand this, though. The title comes from Jack White's cover of 'Love is Blindness,' which came up on a playlist I was listening to while writing this. Thought it was fitting enough!

Anyways, enjoy!

(Also, I took a few lines of dialogue from Catching Fire, so obviously they are not mine).

* * *

"I guess this is a bad time to mention I hung a dummy and painted Seneca Crane's name on it."

A pit low in my stomach forms almost immediately. There is no… absolutely _no possible way _Katniss knows this. My eyes search for those of Haymitch's frantically, hoping there would be some sort of recognition of this act in his own, but he's just as shocked as I am. Clearly he did not plan for her to do this, just as I instructed him to do. Stupidly. _Oh, yes, Effie, let's just allow them to figure out what to do in front of the Gamemakers on their own, nothing could go wrong with that!_

"Oh, Katniss… how do you even know about that?" I manage, somehow. She replies to me that President Snow spoke to her about it. That he came to her house to tell her. He went all the way to District 12 to unnerve her.

And that's the moment I find Haymitch's gaze. He knows much more about this situation, this rebellion, than I do. It's frustrating, and he is unrelenting when I question him. On the other hand, I do know much more than other Capitol citizens, most of whom are completely oblivious. I wish I were them, sometimes. Free of worry and guilt.

For the first time, he looks fearful. There's a sad glint in his eye, like he knew this was her last chance and she effectively blew it. They both did.

I excuse myself from the table, a napkin pressed to my face to catch the impending tears. I wait for him to come and find me, like he usually does when my emotions run high. He's been having to do that much more lately. I'm a mess.

Except he never comes.

I finally calm down and watch the scores of the tributes along with my team. I stand right behind him, my right hand on top of the back of the sofa, close enough for me to graze his shoulder with my fingertips. Then Katniss and Peeta's scores are announced, and my hand moves to grip his shoulder with such force that I'm surprised he can stand it.

Haymitch buries his head in his hands. "Go to bed. I can't stand to look at either of you," he says gruffly, and grabs the wine bottle from the table in front of him and takes a long gulp. My eyes follow Katniss and Peeta as they enter her room, and it's like watching two people accept their deaths. Katniss is visibly shaken and Peeta looks exhausted. They both look like they're tired of it all. No one should have to go through this more than once, and I'm not the only Capitol citizen that thinks this.

It's never been like this. I always had hope, no matter what tributes accompanied me back to the Capitol. If I didn't have hope, I wouldn't have this job.

"I'm going to bed, too," I murmur, and walk quietly back to my room.

I hear Octavia gasp behind me. "But Effie, we need to—"

"Let her go," Cinna says to her, a warm note in his voice. I do truly understand why Katniss likes him so.

I remove my makeup methodically. Pouring the green, soothing cleanser onto a muslin cloth, all the black, white, gold, and orange dissipates from my face in nothing more than a few minutes. I always liked routine, but at this moment, all I want to do is to crawl in between the sheets and disappear. Several steps in my routine are skipped.

The sheets are cold against my naked body, and in my struggle to wait for my body warmth to heat the bed, tears being to prickle at my cheeks.

It takes two hours for Haymitch to stumble into my room. He stands against the door, head hung in something akin to defeat.

"Why are you keeping everything from me, Haymitch? Why did I not know about President Snow visiting Katniss?" I hiss, trying to keep my voice down.

He sighs, setting his wine on the surface of my vanity, which clinks against the various bottles of perfume. "Effie, let's not do this now…"

"When else are we supposed to do this? Their interviews are tomorrow, Haymitch. I can't be out of the loop for those."

Turning to face me, finally, I find his gray eyes are tinged with red. "You have more than enough to worry about, sweetheart. We thought…" he presses the heels of his palms to his eyes, "we thought we'd be able to figure this out."

"Well, clearly they had other ideas," I huff, turning away from him.

He walks up to the bed and I feel his hand on my bare calf, the one I always leave sticking out from underneath the sheets. I pull it back instantly.

"Hey," he clucks, and he pulls back the sheets and crawls in behind me, his arm around my waist.

"Haymitch, after this…" I begin, but I find myself to afraid to continue. The thought of it is something that I never thought I would encounter.

"What, Eff?" He nudges me on, and his fingers splay against my stomach.

Tears are threatening to fall again, and I don't try to stop them. "This rebellion is going to be the end of us, you know that?"

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Don't do that, Haymitch. You know exactly what I mean."

He grips my wrist and turns my body over to face him. It's violent, the most violent he's been with me, and my throat constricts.

"You think that I know that if Katniss or Peeta, or even me, for that matter, fucks this up any more that Peacekeepers can come in here and drag us all into questioning? Beat us to a bloody pulp? Kill us? Snow could order our executions and we'd be dead in a split second. You know that more than I do."

I exhale slowly, shakily. I say nothing.

"Do you not think that I think of that constantly? God damnit, Effie, I am trying my hardest here."

He leans forward to press a kiss on my cheek, the one with the little raised scar that he put there all those years ago.

"Did you keep me out of the loop for my own good?" I whisper, leaning more into his embrace, his scruffy face buried against my neck.

He presses another kiss to my shoulder. "Yeah, but, looking back on that I don't know if that was the best idea."

"No, I don't think so either, darling," I smile against his neck, moving to unbutton his shirt, "especially when they come question us when the Games start."

"_When_?" He says, a little incredulously.

"Oh, don't you dare think that I'm that blind. I know there's uprisings," his shirt is discarded onto the floor, "I know that Katniss and Peeta and their berries are what started it," he pulls me flush against him, "and I know I'll be on the top of their list."

"Really, you?" He groans as I move to straddle his hips, hands working at undoing his trousers.

"Mmhm." My lips find his, and they are rough and taste of my wine. His hand buries itself in my hair, his teeth graze against mine, and his other hand is wandering dangerously low. "I'm their escort, Haymitch, I'm supposed to prevent them from doing anything rash. Obviously I'm not doing my job well enough."

His lips are on mine again, only briefly, and he rolls us over. "Doing it well enough for me," he says, leaving kisses down my neck, in between my breasts, leaving a trail of heat down until his mouth is finally where I want it to be.

His tongue works away, swirling around my clit, his fingers pumping in and out, and my hands clutch at his hair. How many more days like this do we have? Two, definitely, but after the Games? The rebellion? There's a massive chance that one, or even both, of us isn't going to make it out alive. A shudder goes through my body, and I can't figure out if it's from my thoughts or from Haymitch's ministrations.

He makes me come not long after and I'm thankful because I can't keep thinking like that when we're together. It's morbid.

I watch him as he pushes his wine-stained trousers down and he enters me swiftly. It's forceful and his thrusts are hard, and my moans and murmurs of his name only add fuel to the fire. His face is against my neck, and I can see the plane of his back. It's covered in scars, from after his time in the arena questioningly, and I can't help but to think that there might be more soon.

He moans out my name, and as he comes, my fingertips slide ever so gently across his scars, down the sides of his back, and back up again. He shakes slightly at the sensation, and I can hear his trembling breath against my ear.

"Haymitch?" I whisper as he rolls away from me, looking blankly up at the ceiling.

"Mmm."

"Stay with me tonight?" I ask, grasping for his hand, wanting to keep constant contact with him. Our days were numbered, anyways.

"Thought I wasn't allowed," he replies, a smile on his lips.

He pulls me over, and my head is against his chest, his arm holding me safe against him.

"Just stay, please."

* * *

A/N: Bah, went through all of the emotions through that, didn't I? It's what I get for staying up till 4:30 finishing this!

Please review if you can and follow me on the tumblr! It's linked in my profile.

Bailey xx


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